


I know that we were meant to break (So what, I don't mind)

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:44:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Piss off</i>, Harry sends back, and then, <i>So am I coming or not? I need to tell the car where to drop me.</i></p><p>Louis sighs and pads toward the bathroom. He leaves Big Brother on because Harry might be coming over but that doesn’t mean Louis is going to get stuck watching a sub-titled documentary about the ancient mating rituals of the silver horned beetle or whatever the fuck else Harry might make him try and watch. </p><p><i>You still have your key?</i> Louis texts. </p><p>The answer takes long enough to come through that Louis has already stripped off and is heading to the bathroom with a towel and a pair of clean pants when it does. </p><p><i>Of course I do</i>. </p><p> </p><p>or Harry goes to see Louis when he gets home from LA</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know that we were meant to break (So what, I don't mind)

**Author's Note:**

> ugh, I've been thinking about H/L a LOT lately and then this happened. Sorry it's all feelings and no porn. I will try better next time.
> 
> thanks to checkthemargins for reading this over and croissantkatie for the britpick. any remaining mistakes are completely my own!

Louis is lying on the sofa with his rattiest duvet tucked around his legs. He’s got the thermostat turned up high enough that he can hear the pipes creak every time the heat kicks on and he’s watching Celebrity Big Brother far too intently for a Friday night. He’s not really got it in himself to care enough to change it. He’s on a break and he’s going to take full advantage of that, from letting his hair grow too long to going far too many days between shaving his face. Christ, he barely remembers the last time he showered if he’s being completely honest. 

He’s relaxed, is the thing. Louis can’t remember the last time he didn’t have someone trying to get him somewhere to do something for someone else. Even the things that he loves to do have started being too much. Apparently fun things aren’t fun anymore when you’re bound by a contract to do them. He’d never known that before. He definitely knows it now. 

It’s late though, and he’s at the point of the night where he could get up from the sofa and make a conscious effort to do something like take a shower and go out, or turn off the lights and go to bed. A drink might even be good, but that would require getting up too and he’s not sure he’s thirsty enough to do that. 

He’s about ten seconds away from rolling over to press his face into the sofa cushions and go to sleep for the night when his mobile buzzes, dull and low from where it had fallen onto the rug hours before. Louis would ignore it - he’s been doing that most of the break anyway - but this time he decides to answer. He fumbles around and finds it half shoved under the bottom edge of the duvet, fingers clumsy when he hits the button and sees a message from Harry. 

_Headed home in a little while. You around?_

Louis drops his head back and closes his eyes. In the kitchen the refrigerator clicks and hums. Louis breathes out and then types: _Home? So you have one of those now?_

_Ha ha I totally have a home. Lots of them actually : )_

“Ridiculous,” Louis mutters to himself. He shoves the duvet onto the floor though, and runs a hand through his hair, sniffing the pits of his t-shirt and realizing that if Harry’s coming over he most definitely needs to shower. 

_You’re honestly the most ridiculous human I’ve ever met_

_Piss off_ , Harry sends back, and then, _So am I coming or not? I need to tell the car where to drop me._

Louis sighs and pads toward the bathroom. He leaves Big Brother on because Harry might be coming over but that doesn’t mean Louis is going to get stuck watching a sub-titled documentary about the ancient mating rituals of the silver horned beetle or whatever the fuck else Harry might make him try and watch. 

_You still have your key?_ Louis texts. 

The answer takes long enough to come through that Louis has already stripped off and is heading to the bathroom with a towel and a pair of clean pants when it does. 

_Of course I do_. 

Louis turns on the water, hot enough that the room starts to immediately fill with steam. _See you in a bit_ he sends back, fingers slipping over the glass face of his mobile. Then he shoves it under a pile of his dirty clothes and climbs into the stall, turning his face to the beating hot spray.

*

Louis is sat at the breakfast bar drinking a cup of tea and kicking his heels against the bottom rung of his chair when he hears the alarm being deactivated and a key in the lock. He’s left his hair damp after his shower and it’s falling loose over his eyes, enough that he has to push it back to see Harry clearly when he walks in. Louis takes one look at him and hops down from his chair, leaving his tea on the counter and any vague semblance of nonchalance firmly behind him.

“You look like shit,” Louis says flatly. 

Harry’s lips twist. His eyes are puffy, the edges dark with fatigue. “Thanks. It’s great to see you too.”

“Fuck, Harry, you know what I mean,” Louis snaps. He grabs Harry’s bag and tosses it onto the sofa, waits for Harry to shrug off his coat and leave it where it falls into a heap on the living room floor. Harry’s in a green jumper with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a pair of dark jeans so old Louis thinks he remembers seeing them on the bus from their first tour. He looks tired and pale and miserable. Louis can’t remember the last time he’s seen Harry look like such crap.

Ignoring the fact that Louis is barefoot and Harry’s in boots and towering over him by inches, he tugs Harry into the kitchen and shoves him onto a chair. Harry crumples when he sits, legs splayed and arms flat on the breakfast bar. He puts his head down on the crook of his elbow, watching Louis bustle around the kitchen to fix him a cup of tea with a small smile on his face. 

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly. 

Louis rolls his eyes and smacks Harry on the back of the head. He pushes Harry’s tea towards him and Harry smiles gratefully, sipping it slowly and wincing from the heat. 

“So what’s wrong?” Louis asks. “Los Angeles have a stupid hat shortage? Have bananas gone extinct? Are dirty hipsters being outlawed?” He’s trying for _light hearted and curious_ but is probably coming closer to _sarcastic and obnoxious_. Oh well.

“Piss off.” Harry kicks at Louis chair, then leans down to yanks his boots off and drop them onto the floor. “It’s nothing, really. It wasn’t any one thing.”

Louis hums quietly and frowns into his own mug of tea. Harry is too nice, is the problem. Louis has known it for years. Where Louis gets what he wants because he’s curt enough so that people know what they can put past him or not, Harry subscribes more to the “kill them with kindness” theory and hopes that everything will be all right in the end. Louis doesn’t know how he does it. He gets tired just thinking about it sometimes. Imagine how tedious is must be to be Harry, having to be charming and genuine and nice all the bloody time. The very idea of it gives Louis a rash. 

“So it was a lot of many things?” Louis asks. Harry shrugs but says nothing. Louis huffs, shoving at Harry’s shoulder and kicking the bottom of his chair hard enough to hurt his toes. “Words, Harold. Use your words.”

Harry bites his lip and looks away. He runs a hand through his hair and Louis idly wonders when the last time Harry washed it was. Maybe before Harry leaves Louis can convince him to take a shower. Possibly shampoo can even be involved. 

“It was just…” He flicks his eyes to Louis and then back away. His bottom lip is bitten raw and red, knuckles white where he’s got his hands twisted together in his lap. “It was a lot, is all. Out a lot, papped a lot. Kendall’s sweet but it was just…” he sighs again, trailing off and breaking into another thought. “Cal was great though, like always. Got some sleep at his place for a bit.”

Louis thinks of his recent endless days on the couch, nothing to do but watch the telly and purposely choose to not clean himself if he didn’t want to. He feels bad for Harry and then is instantly angry, because honestly, Harry could say _no_. He could _stay home_. 

“You’re an idiot,” Louis says flatly. He stands up and grabs both of their now empty mugs and bangs them down into the sink. Harry makes a quiet sound of protest from behind him, but it just makes Louis angry - angrier, actually. He’s got no idea why he’s so cross at Harry right now but he is. “A complete and utter fucking knobhead.”

“Hey,” Harry says. Louis hears Harry’s chair drag along the floor as he stands up. “Piss off.”

“Oh, _I_ should piss off?” Louis says. His voice has gone screechy at the end. He whips around and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring in Harry’s direction with his chin raised high. “That’s sweet. Lovely, really. So glad you stopped by.”

“Christ, I don’t even know why I did,” Harry says. He storms from the room, which for anyone else would be only a little bit quicker than a leisurely stroll, but Louis knows Harry, he knows Harry’s angry. “Sorry to bother you, Lou. My mistake.”

Louis follows Harry and leans in the doorway separating the living room from the kitchen. Harry’s grabbing his coat from the floor, fumbling with his scarf and beanie and regret kicks low in Louis’ gut. “Where are you going to go?”

Harry shrugs but doesn’t look up. “Grimmy’s maybe. Or Ben’s. I could ring Gemma.” He lifts his head and his eyes are so green, bright with hurt. “I’ve got loads of places I can go. I’m hardly homeless if I’m not here with you.”

“Why _did_ you come here?” Louis asks. Harry sucks in a breath and his body goes stiff. He stares down at the floor, twisting the beanie awkwardly in his hands. “I can’t remember the last time you stayed here, Haz. Why tonight?”

Harry shrugs. He rubs a hand over his face and breathes out, long and slow. “Guess I’m just used to you by now. When it’s everyone else who wants something from me it feels like a lot, like too much, but with you…” he trails off and finally looks up at Louis, eyes tired and smile sad at the edges. “I’m used to the way you hurt me by now,” he says quietly. “It doesn’t feel quite as bad as the rest.”

Louis feels his body flinch, Harry’s words hitting him harder than a slap. He’s known how he hurt Harry, he’s always known. Part of him does it on purpose because if he’s the one who’s hurting Harry the most, than the rest of it won’t feel so bad. Louis would rather have Harry hate him than hate everything else he’s got in his life, and everything he has to do to keep it. He’ll take that bullet for Harry to be happy. Louis can be worse than the rest of the world in Harry’s eyes. Let him be the bad guy. 

“Come take a shower,” is what Louis says though. He walks down the hall, not waiting to see if Harry’s following. He knows Harry will eventually. “I’ll even let you borrow my shampoo.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and then Louis hears footsteps on the floor as Harry follows.

*

Louis is already in bed when Harry finishes up, the open bathroom door letting the steam from the shower warm his bedroom. Harry’s colour looks better, his skin pink from the heat and damp from the water. He’s got on a pair of his oldest jogging bottoms that Louis remembers from when they lived together a hundred years ago. Harry’s hair is wet and slicked back and when he looks to Louis he looks nervous almost. Louis rolls his eyes and holds the covers up for Harry to slide underneath with him. 

“Thanks,” Harry says softly. “I wasn’t sure if I should head to the sofa or what.”

“Harry, please,” Louis huffs. “We’ve shared a bed approximately fifty billion times before. One more night won’t hurt anything.”

Harry doesn’t say anything when he climbs in, just settles himself with his back along Louis’ front the same way they’ve done a thousand times before. It used to be Harry who was smaller than Louis, all tucked up in Louis’s arms. Now it’s the other way around. Louis has to stretch to try and get his arm all the way around Harry’s chest. Harry’s back is broader, his hair is longer. His legs are fuller and his hands when they curl around Louis’ wrists are barely the same hands Louis remembers. 

There’s the echo of a million words they’ve spoken to each other hovering in the space between their bodies. The memory of their lips pressed together, skin on skin, hands on hips, and every single word Louis has never said. 

“Hey, Lou,” Harry says, voice quiet and thick with sleep. 

“Yeah.”

It’s so quiet for a moment that Louis can hear the clock ticking on the wall. He can hear Harry’s breath rattling around in his chest. “Knock knock,” Harry says. 

Louis buries his smile in the back of Harry’s head, thankful Harry can’t see it. “Who’s there,” Louis says.

“I’m.”

“I’m who?”

Harry sighs, deep and slow and so achingly tired Louis’ heart twists. “I’m tired,” he says quietly. “I’m really really tired.”

Louis closes his eyes and tightens his arms, pulling Harry closer. “Then sleep,” Louis whispers. 

Harry snuffles a little and buries his face in the pillow and sleeps. 

 

 

-end-


End file.
